Exacerbation
by Nolle Prosequi
Summary: Another day brought another case and another way Bobby could focus his mind on something else besides Alex and her… visitor. [My first LOCI fic, R&R] Rated T for future chapters. CH 3 UP!
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at a LOCI fic. I've got no beta, so any errors are on me. I've only got a general idea of where this story is going [Is that a BAship I see on the horizon?, so don't be surprised if I start asking for suggestions in the future.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, probably never will be. Siiiiiiigh.

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After wrapping up a case, Bobby Goren was the first one clocking out – or wanting to, at least. The adrenaline that came with solving a tough case always became elusive soon after a confession was obtained. It was like hitting a brick wall, with all of the hours put into the case suddenly crashing down on his shoulders. To add insult to injury, there was always paperwork glaring him in the face when all was said and done.

The latest case he and his partner had been working on was solved only hours ago, but they were mercifully allowed to leave the office without first getting started on the dreaded paperwork. It was a tough case, earning them both a temporary weekend off.

It was 11: 39 when his cell phone rang.

His first thoughts flew to work. They'd been assigned a new case, another murder, something high-profile. Something had happened that needed their immediate attention. It wouldn't be the first time his tentative relaxation plans were interrupted for something deemed more important than himself. However, he couldn't ignore that voice in his head that said this wasn't about a case at all. This was her.

He wasn't sleeping and she knew it. It was her on the phone and he knew it. She was the only one who would call him without a second thought at this time of night. On the third ring, his hand shot out to pick the vibrating bane of his existence off of the coffee table.

"Eames?" He asked, not bothering to even check the caller ID. His voice didn't betray the exhaustion that he was feeling and for that he was grateful.

"Oh, Goren, good. Glad I caught you." The tone of her voice seemed frazzled, like she'd really expected him not to pick up the phone for her. "Listen, I'm really sorry."

"Sorry?" He mimicked dumbfounded. "For what?" A previously prone Bobby was suddenly sitting up, swinging his legs off of the couch so that his feet would land on solid ground. He abruptly needed a touch-stone to keep him grounded while his mind shot off in a million different directions at once.

"I, uh… I –" She was distracted, that much was obvious. Her failed attempts to multitask left her answer to Bobby's desperate question unanswered for the time being.

"Eames?" No matter how hard he tried to control his voice that little note of panic still snuck its way into his tone.

"I used two of your vacation days." She blurted out, only vaguely aware of how thick the silence on the other end of the line had become in the wake of her muteness. A long pause followed her confession and she seemed contented to let him think it over, returning her attention to whatever had distracted her from before.

"What?" He'd finally managed to push words out of his mouth. Wherever his creative mind had been wandering, he never would have fathomed that that was what she was going to say. "Why?"

"I needed the weekend off." In his mind's eye, he could see her shrug as if this admission was just that simple. "And I mean completely off. No calls, no emergencies, no top-priority cases. Hell, I'll probably turn my phone off when I get done talking to you." She paused and it was during this interval that Bobby recognized the familiar hum of a car engine in the background. She was driving somewhere.

"…and Ross refused to give me the time off unless you took off too. Something about you being a nuisance." She let out a distracted chuckle. "So, I lied and told him that I had cleared it with you first. I didn't think you'd mind –" She'd continued speaking to him while his mind struggled to connect the dots.

"I don't." He cut her off in a quick assurance.

"I just figured after this last case you could use a weekend. To catch up on some reading. Or sleep. Or. You could just relax, you know." Her tone was apologetic as she tried to list off ways that he could spend his new-found free time. She did not claim to be a mind-reader, but she claimed to understand Bobby Goren well enough to know that he would not know what to do with this time now that he was, in essence, on his own for the weekend.

"Y-Yeah, I got plenty of things to do, don't worry about it." There was another pause in the conversation as his mind continued to wander over this newly acquired information. "Why'd you need the time off?"

"I told you," She sounded slightly confused and not a little bit hurt that he had not been listening during her first monologue. "I've got a family emergency. But don't worry; I'll be back at work Monday. I wouldn't dream of leaving you to do all that exciting paper work all by yourself." That was as close to her usual snarky self that she had come to during their conversation so far. Something else was on her mind. And Bobby wanted to know what it was.

"What happened?" His mind flared with worst-case scenarios.

"Nothing important." This was not the answer he was expecting, as 'nothing important' directly under-minded the whole point of an 'emergency.' Her contradictory answer only raised more questions in Bobby's mind, but he couldn't bring himself to question her any further on the topic. If she'd wanted him to know, she'd have told him, right?

"Where are you going?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself from prying any further into the private situation.

There was a pause before a small, amused chuckle escaped her. She should have known he would have figured out that she was in her car. "Out of town."

"To… to your parents?" He was fishing for answers, but she wasn't giving him much to go on. She hadn't said 'family emergency' but what other kind of emergency could Eames be having?

"No, out of town." She repeated distractedly. Her tone was every bit as warm and open as it had been when the conversation had begun, but she was being careful not to betray any of the answers that Bobby wanted. "Listen, I have to go, Goren. Thanks for understanding."

"No problem, Eames." Sighing, Bobby's free hand had somehow made its way to the back of his neck to scrub. He didn't like being kept in the dark, but he trusted her enough to decide whether or not it was something he needed to concern himself over.

"And Bobby?"

"Yeah, Eames?"

"Why don't you try sleeping in a bed tonight?"

A smile flitted over his features – she knew him too well. Before he could respond, there was a click followed by silence. Pulling the phone away from his ear, the end-call screen time flashed four minutes exactly.

And so the countdown for answers began.

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So what do you think? Love it or hate it, leave some reviews, will ya?! I can stop it right here if it's rubbish, but if you're curious about this 'emergency' then you should probably let me know your opinion. I'm not above begging, you know. ...Please? Plllllllllease? Pleeeeeeeeease?


	2. Chapter 2

If you made it through my first chapter and stuck with me, I adore you. In my opinion it was rubbish! But, at least it starts to get good this chapter. Thanks to all you reviewers who sparked my muse more than once. And errors are still my fault.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, bubble gum and fanfiction will not buy you the right to LOCI. Time to think up a new plan.

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At 1:14 in the morning on Saturday, Bobby realized just how miserable his weekend was going to be. He'd heeded Eames' advice and climbed into bed shortly after midnight, but found sleep to be an elusive animal.

When there was the possibility of a case at any time, Bobby could usually force himself to get at least a few hours of sleep a night – it wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his mind working. Without that external motivation, Bobby couldn't muster any internal motivation to shut his eyes. Unsurprisingly, he spent his night tossing and turning until he lost track of what little time he'd wasted.

Saturday, during the day, proved to be no more productive for poor Bobby. He hauled himself out of bed sometime after four and returned to his spot on the couch from the night before. Turning on one of the many news channels, the television provided more background noise than it did information in the form of pictures.

More than once Bobby caught himself dialing Eames' number. He would reluctantly hit 'end' and clear the screen of her digits, reminding himself that she had explicitly told him that she was turning off her cell phone. He'd started drinking at ten and by noon he'd succumbed to a booze-fueled slumber that only propelled his mind to unwanted places in his dreams. He'd woken up some time later, precariously sprawled out on his couch, with a bad taste in his mouth and a coffee table littered with empty bottles feeling no more rested.

By Sunday, all Bobby could focus on was how long it would take to become Monday. He'd never realized how dependant he'd become on Eames over the years. Even during her surrogacy she'd never so completely alienated him from any aspect of her life. Recalling the early days of their partnership, Bobby wasn't even sure she'd been this estranged then. He was floundering, grasping for straws and finding none.

He'd even gone so far as to drive by her house – only to find that, to his dismay, she still wasn't home from wherever she'd gone. Forcing himself to respect her privacy as best he could, he didn't stake out her house like he wanted to. Instead he returned home and delved into easy books, ones that he could absorb through careful thought, yet pay little attention to because of past readings. As it neared dinnertime, he closed _1984_ and thought one last time about calling his partner.

Dinner consisted of two beers, three cigarettes and deep, meaningful contemplation about his sudden loss of control over his own life. Did he really need Eames this much? Enough to not know what to do with himself otherwise? These were scary questions, scarier still by the only answer he could think to provide. _Yes, yes he needed her this much._

Pushing himself into an uneasy sleep just past three, he promised himself that he would go see Eames tomorrow morning before work. If for no other reason than he wanted to touch base with her and quell his own insecurities about their time apart and her reasons for leaving. He'd bring her coffee as an excuse; it'd serve as a welcome back and an apology for barging in on her morning. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get to ask about her 'family emergency.'

Monday morning had Bobby up and ready to leave his apartment long before he needed to. The prospect of seeing Eames and being able to talk with her again was more than enough motivation for him. Leaving his apartment (perhaps a bit early), Bobby picked up coffee – fixing Eames' to her liking – and headed out of his way towards her house. He'd arrived on her street sooner than expected, but was relieved to see her car in the driveway. For a single, shameful second, he'd doubted her word about making it back for work on Monday.

Leaving the coffee for their departure, he doubted she would be ready for work at this time, but he couldn't busy himself for longer than a few seconds in the car. Anxiety struck as he was walked towards her porch. She hadn't wanted him to know any details about where she was going or what she was doing. Maybe she wouldn't appreciate his unannounced visit. If she'd wanted to talk to him, she would have called. After all, she was the one to cut off contact, not him.

He'd almost succeeded in talking himself out of what he was doing. Pulling himself out of his mind, Bobby became aware of his surroundings just in time to realize he'd knocked on her door not seconds before. There was no backing out now. Thinking quickly, Bobby did his best not to seem overly eager. Turning so that his back was to the door, he heard the tumblers and locks recede and the familiar squeak of her door opening. Still intent on playing it smoothly, he was studying the sky with great interest.

Bobby was just about to turn and greet his partner when –

"Can I help you, man?" A young male's voice, sleep-filled and perturbed, made its way to Bobby's ears.

Whirling around, a panic-stricken Bobby surveyed the scene presented to him. The young man, a tall, gangly being who could _not_ have been over twenty, was answering Eames' door. To make matters worse, this man was so uncouth that he did so wearing only boxer shorts (_Batman_ boxer shorts) – as if he owned the place.

Instinct overcame Bobby and he immediately charged the figure, assuming him to be an intruder. Knocking over a coat rack as they locked arms through the doorway, the two seemed to be fairly even matched. The younger man stumbled backwards, hitting the back of his knees on a coffee table and breaking a lamp with his elbow, but held Bobby's shoulders through the process. With equal force, Bobby was propelled into the back of the couch – moving it a solid foot from its original position.

The scuffle continued in a stalemate, with no clear winner in sight. Slipping on a rug, the intruder briefly lost his balance and Bobby saw his opportunity. With a shove, the intruder was flush against a wall – his head knocking down a picture when it slammed into the frame. Immediately, one of Bobby's forearms was covering the younger man's throat and shoulders; pinning him so that his toes were barely scraping the ground, leaving him with little leverage to fight back. His other hand was quickly moving towards his belt, searching out his handcuffs.

"What the hell are –"

"What the hell are you doing?" Hearing a familiar voice take the words out of his mouth, Bobby was only somewhat relieved.

"Eames –" Glancing in the direction of her voice, he'd meant to explain himself. But, once he caught sight of her, all intelligent thought died long before it reached his mouth.

Alex was standing, a puddle of water forming beneath her, in her hallway where the fight had ultimately culminated. Half of her face was covered in soapy hair, but she stood defiant despite the fact that she was wearing little more than a green towel. Her left hand held the towel in place while the right held up her service weapon.

Her stance was laughable, and had he been of sound mind or talking to anyone but his partner in this particular situation, he wouldn't have even batted an eyelash at the gun. Her feet were too far apart. She could easily slip in the water forming around her feet. With the gun supported by only one hand, aiming accurately would be impossible. Not to mention the hair clinging to her face and obstructing her line of sight. Pulling the trigger would be easy enough, but the kick-back of the gun could also easily throw her off balance. No, there was almost zero chance of being harmed in a situation such as this. The bullet would sooner fly in a random direction than it would at its intended mark.

She visibly relaxed when understanding dawned on her – this was not some intruder, this was Bobby. Alex had known she wasn't going to shoot anyone looking like this, but she could've at least scared the hell out of someone enough to get them out of her house. Setting her gun on the nearest end table, she couldn't help but stare at the view in front of her.

Bobby didn't think he was about to get shot. He actually hadn't even given any thought to the gun. He'd been focusing intently on Eames. She was soaking, probably jumped out of the shower when she'd heard them wrestling, and wearing something that left very little the imagination. But who was she here to defend herself against? Him or this guy? This young punk who –

"Bobby, let him go!" Her voice shook him from his thoughts and he turned to see the younger man, the _intruder_, turning blue before his very eyes. With a choking gasp, the young man was able to wretch himself from Bobby's grasp and drop to the floor on his knees.

"Are you okay?" Eames shocked Bobby by directing her question to the boy rather than to him. She even took long strides across the hallway and ended up standing next to Bobby, looking down with a face full of concern for… not him. The younger man coughed and took a few deep breaths as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm fine." He muttered grudgingly, holding his hand up before his eyes to see bright spots of blood on his fingers. Gathering himself from the ground, he headed towards the kitchen on shaky legs to clean himself up.

Before Bobby could address either one of them, Eames turned on her heels and headed back towards the bathroom – intent on finishing her shower before she dealt with this situation. As if as an afterthought, she called over her shoulder just before shutting the door.

"Goren, Sam. Sam, Goren. Try not to kill each other?"

And just like that, Bobby was left standing in Eames' hallway, stupefied.

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WHO THE HELL IS THIS GUY?! DUN DUN DUN. Also, are you guys interested in a case or just straight drama? BAshippin' or not? I need feeeeeeeeeedback! 


	3. Chapter 3

I deleted and re-submitted this chapter, if anyone has any problems with it. I forgot to add all this talk-y stuff on top. Oops.

Anyways, I've kind of grown to hate this story. And I haven't thought up a good case yet, so that's coming in the next chapter. Thanks for sticking with me and putting up with all my errors. On a side note, look out for a GREAT casefile I thought up while trying to think up one for this story. It's coming in the next few weeks, as I acquant myself with some of the psychology knowledge needed.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not feeling witty tonight, so... they're just not mine.

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There were no sounds – except for the deafening silence and running water. When Bobby Goren's life came to a surprising stand-still, the last sound he'd expected to hear was running water. That sound was like a slap in the face. A reminder that the world was still turning, gravity was still pulling water down drains, everyone was living their lives like nothing had just happened. What had just happened anyways?

The water in the kitchen had stopped. Sam had finished wetting the dishtowel and was putting pressure on his fresh wound as he walked out to where Bobby was still standing – looking down at the shattered picture frame as if it were a rattlesnake poised to strike.

"It's not going to bite you." Sam ground out, kneeling down cautiously to pick it up. A few shards of glass fell to the ground and he could only groan at the lack of protection for his feet. "It's just a picture, man." Again, he addressed Bobby with the formality of a twelve year old.

Bobby could do nothing but blink away his confusion at the younger man's civility. _Weren't they just fighting? How did he just turn a page like that? _He wasn't used to someone suddenly acting very cozy – not that this was exactly cozy, but it was a far step from trying to strangle each other, as they had been moments ago.

"I- I'm s-sorry." Bobby managed to mumble. He was still processing the entire situation.

"Tell that to my pounding head." Carefully, so as not to cut himself, Sam started the slow process of cleaning up the remnants of glass from the shattered frame. "Now I know why some people think you're crazy."

The muttered insult hadn't gone unnoticed by Bobby, but he was too worked up over Eames' reaction to what had transpired to be too ruffled by it. Besides, he'd been called worse things by better people – these days, the insults just rolled off of him when they weren't worth it.

"You – You might need stitches." Bobby offered lamely. And at that, the boy seemed to lose some of his color.

"Do you think?" Momentarily forgetting the task at hand he stood up, almost at eye level with Bobby. "Will… Will you check it? I really can't afford to get stitches." Bobby was going to say no. He was going to come up with some excuse – he wasn't qualified, he was squeamish of blood – something that would render his opinion of the situation null and void. "I don't want to go bother Alex. She'll just worry." Sam explained after Bobby was silent for just longer than comfortable.

The mention of Alex was all it took. Bobby had the boy's head in his and was tilting to towards the floor. It was an odd sight, almost something you'd expect from a father/son pairing. _Hell, they could probably pass themselves off as father and son if they looked more alike_, Bobby thought wanly as he finished his inspection.

There was a nasty cut, but nothing life-threatening and Bobby told the boy so. Satisfied at the answer, Sam went back to picking up the broken pieces. Bobby was at a loss and seemed glued in place. Why would this guy just take his word for it? They had no history, no background that said he wouldn't lie to him. Wouldn't make up that he was fine, just to cause him more pain. Perhaps this boy was just naïve? He had to be… not older than twenty?

"How old are you?"

Obviously, Sam had expected the conversation to be over because he jumped at the sound of Bobby's voice looming over him. Scrambling to pick up the again-scattered shards, he answered. "Seventeen until December."

_Seventeen? Seventeen? What the hell was Eames doing hanging around someone who wasn't even of legal age yet?_

With this newly acquired information, Bobby was more confused than ever. As if suddenly remembering that his legs were still attached to the rest of his body, Bobby backed up from where Sam was cleaning. With determination and a quick stride, Bobby was moving towards the door Alex had disappeared behind.

"Yeah… thanks for the help, jerk."

Alex heard the soft knock on her bathroom door. She just chose to ignore it – which had been the wrong thing to do.

Hearing the handle wiggle under the strain of big hands twisting, she knew it would not be Bobby who caved first. And with the tell-tale creak of her bathroom door opening, Alex knew he'd either broken or jimmied the lock. Though, whatever he'd done to it, it was probably fixable. _Considerate bastard._

"Eames?" The unsure tone of his voice was only muffled, not concealed, by the running water of the shower. The thunk that singled he was sitting on the covered toilet seat wasn't masked at all, nor was Eames' mental sigh. She was not prepared to deal with this naked.

"What Goren?" Using his last name was a final effort to keep things as formal as possible in the tiny room where one of them was naked and only hidden by a flimsy shower curtain. It sure as hell wasn't going to help her avoid the flurry of questioning she knew would follow.

"Who's that?"

"I told you, that's Sam."

"Yeah, but… _W-Who_ is Sam?"

She shrugged with practiced avoidance, even though he couldn't see it. This was not something she was going to discuss with him, not now anyways. This was a conversation for a public place, where they were both fully clothed and they were far away from Sam. Somewhere that gave him a head start in case Goren wanted to enter into another round of wrestling with him. Why he'd fought with him in the first place, Eames had no idea. Would he fight with Sam again? Eames didn't know about that either.

He had too much respect for her to try and study her silhouette through the shower curtain. Plus, he didn't have x-ray vision, so it was a wasted cause anyways. Instead, Bobby focused his attention on the green towel that lay bunched in a pile on the bath mat.

"Bobby? Did you even hear what I just said?" The sound of running water had stopped and all that was left was the same skeptical voice he had heard on the phone Friday night when he'd zoned out on her. "You must just keep me around for my looks if my voice has you spacing out."

"No! I was listening, Eames. I just – I just got distracted. You know how my mind wanders." The last of his denial was soft and shameful, shifting his attention to his feet like that of a chastised school boy.

"Relax. I was kidding, Goren. I was just saying I'm not up for this conversation right now. Can we take a rain check?"

Unable to think of a reason why he couldn't wait for an explanation, Bobby had to give in and let her have her way. Saying his nerves and his mind just couldn't take not knowing wasn't a justifiable reason.

"I also said you're going to have to go ahead and get out of the bathroom."

"Why?" A puzzled Bobby was still not all the way in the present.

"Because I'm getting out of the shower." And with that statement, one of Alex's legs began to peek from behind the safety and invisibility of the curtain. Before her foot hit the cool tile of the floor, the bathroom door slammed so hard that it shook the cabinets on the wall. With a self-satisfied smile, Alex went about her morning routine.

Emerging ten minutes later, ready for the day, Alex was surprised to find that the mess her two boys had left was all but cleaned up. The picture would need a new frame and she was short a lamp for the time being, but other than that the destruction of two had all but disappeared.

"See, Sam! I'll make a house-cleaner out of you yet!" Alex teased, walking towards him to check the wound on his head.

"He did most of it." He blindly gestured in the direction of Bobby with his head bent down within Alex's eye line.

"Who do you think taught him?" Alex smiled and glanced towards Bobby, who looked more worried than ever for some unknown reason. "He's fine, Goren." She informed him, misdiagnosing the cause of his worry.

"_He_ knows. He already checked while you were in the shower."

"_His_ name is Goren. Or Bobby, if you prefer."

The car ride to 1PP had been made in silence. Bobby easily passed off his keys and Alex swooned over coffee (it was still relatively hot because he'd had the foresight to order it practically boiling), but other than that, no conversation was had. Alex reveled in the warm relief caffeine allowed and Bobby lamented in the scenarios that his mind forced him to dwell on.

Their comfortable silence lasted only long enough for them to step off the elevator. As soon as they were spotted, they were ushered in to see Ross. Happy to be able to duck out of paperwork – even if it was only procrastinating on it – Bobby followed Alex into his office.

Another day brought another case and another way Bobby could focus his mind on something else besides Alex and her… visitor.

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Yes? No? You reviewers are the blood that gives this story life! Let me know where the clogged arteries are! ...Does that even make any sense?


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